


We're flesh and bone (when we're all alone)

by timtom



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Change of protagonist, Gen, Yancy Becket Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timtom/pseuds/timtom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the universe where Knifehead rips through the right side of Gipsy's hull instead of the left and it's Raleigh they find in the ocean later on, the story still plays out, except this time it's Yancy Becket living his brother's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're flesh and bone (when we're all alone)

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing second person pov, so I didn't draw it out too long. All spelling and grammar and tense mistakes are mine, even though anna was a fantastic beta
> 
> title from Werewolf Heart by Dead Man's Bones
> 
> some sections or parts in here might sound familiar because I've read a lot of works by fantastic people such as quigonejinn and apfelgranate and my brain's just started thinking in their styles

_It’s summer, and it rains nonstop in Anchorage. You sit by your mum’s bed as she tells you that you’re going to have a baby brother._

_It’s autumn, and you hear about the attack in San Francisco. You and your brother both begin to yearn for a way to fight back in a way that neither of you understand._

_It’s spring, and your brother and you walk into the Jaeger Academy, heads held high despite the looks they give you._

_It’s winter, and you and your brother leave the shores of Anchorage with your Jaeger to fend off a Category III. Only one of you makes it back to land._

***

You don’t know how you make it to shore – between the stabs of pain triangulating each movement and the echoes of _god no_ whispering through the Drift, all you can seem to concentrate on is each resonating thud as you guide Gipsy’s feet through the angry water, awash with Kaiju Blue. Your vision doubles, then blurs completely with nausea and dizziness tugging at your senses, and you can’t tell which way is up anymore, only that gravity is pulling at you in a spinning, never ending spiral.

Gipsy’s knee crashes into something hard and you instinctively reach out a hand to brace yourself – but there’s nothing to brace with, and you fall forwards for what seems like forever, and you think you must be falling off the edge of the earth. Then pain shoots through the fingers of your torn up drivesuit, partially disconnected from losing one half of its original command centre, and Gipsy Danger finally makes land, crashing down onto the earth.

Static is all your hear, but it’s only on the left side of your helmet, and the graphs and commands disappear from the interface plates in front of you as the interior darkens with the loss of power. The only light you can see is from the breach in the hull and it’s white powder rush outside.

Out. You need to get out – and you try to move, try to ignore the blinding pain that feels like the inside of the drivesuit is covered with broken glass and jagged ripped metal like Gipsy is right now, the breathless pain that has been spearheading every one of your desperate actions since the Kaiju tore through Gipsy’s right arm, and you disengage. You collapse immediately under the weight of the drivesuit and complaining muscles, the relief of finally resting feeling like a sin. You groan and try to lift your arms up – heavy, much too heavy and much too dead to be of any good, especially your right arm, but you grit your teeth and get onto all fours; you climb, aching for the fresh air where the crispness takes your breath away and it’s far colder than you remember it being.

Your belatedly realize your visor is broken, and flakes of snow are drifting in and warming on your face. The cold air bites at your skin and your lungs, and it sears you on the inside where your breath feels like acid.

At last there’s the texture of snow under your gloves as you climb into the brightest of the light; or is that sand? You muster up enough will-power to attempt to stand, and you grab a twisted piece of metal to help you to your wobbly knees. On the next step your right leg nearly gives out, but you stumble forwards instead, your spine aching and your skin itchy under the drivesuit that feels too hot. You limp-stagger your way far enough away that when you turn to look back you can make out what’s left of Gipsy’s head, the ruined Jaeger blankly gazing back.

The light’s blinding and a thought crashes into the front of your mind so quickly that it feels like your first time in a Drift – like something spreading your mind open and it’s a hard pain that takes your breath away. It’s the painful truth that you have no energy to confront right now, but it’s all you can think about. Your leg twitches in a violent reaction to the reality of the thought and you lurch forwards two steps in quick succession so you don’t keel over.   

“Raleigh!” You yell – except your voice is gone, exhausted, and you can barely rally enough strength to cough; your brother’s name is hissed out with an exhale equal in pain, anger – and guilt. Your chest spasms with the effort, and it feels like your heart stops for a split second when you hear the silence answer.

“Raleigh.” You gasp again, and immediately you realize you’re not alone. There’s a man by you – old, wearing a beanie and gloves. There’s a boy too, holding a long metal pole with something on the end.

 _You’re hurt_. His voice is muffled, but there’s no mistaking the tone of worry. That’s when your pain tolerance disappears completely as the muscles in your right leg shudder and finally give out under the strain. You drop to one knee, and then lose complete control of your body as it shuts down without your consent and you crumple into the snow and sand in a heap.

“I’m sorry.” You try to say, and it’s a hoarse whisper followed by shallow breaths. The man hovering over you doesn’t seem to hear you – _just hold on, you’ll be okay_ – but it doesn’t matter. The person you are trying to apologise to can’t have heard you anyway.

“Rals …” You manage, and then it’s like the darkness is drawn across your vision like a drape, devouring the lights and colours. When you wake up three weeks later in intensive care, the lights and colours don’t return.

***

“Where do you want to die? _Here_?” It sounds like a challenge, and Yancy can hear the undertone of _I expected more, Ranger_ that Pentecost is putting out, but he doesn’t turn around until Pentecost finishes his statement. “Or in a Jaeger?”

Yancy isn’t going back – he quit the Jaeger program for a reason, and he is fully ready to deal with the shit storm the Kaiju are preparing to reign in, because he has nothing to lose; not anymore. And yet, he doesn’t just pick up his feet and leave.

There’s a black yawning hole inside him where Raleigh’s handshake used to hold fast onto, but now that Raleigh’s gone, what if he isn’t Drift compatible with anyone else? What if he’s broken, on the inside, where no one can fix him, not even himself? What if the edges of his handshake are lined with rusty barbed wire and no one can ever drift with him again, because someone died inside him, and that’s never supposed to happen?

He’s got no pedigree – the Beckets were just mutts from the streets who showed promise and handled simulated situations well. He would just be useless and a dead weight in the Jaeger program – the ranger who lost a battle, a co-pilot, a brother, and another opportunity at fighting Kaiju again.

Yancy’s not scared – he’s not scared of the Kaiju, not of the reputation – because he’s been called worse names, by others and by his own consciousness in the dead of night when the nightmares are as close to reality as Yancy gets, and as long as the names linger he’s got no room for forgiveness. He’s not afraid of the failure itself either – it’s not that.

It’s failing Raleigh.

Because Raleigh would want him to jockey again – if Raleigh was here right now, he’d be flipping Yancy off and yelling at him to get back in that Jaeger and kick some Kaiju ass, because he didn’t die just so Yancy could stand around feeling sorry for himself, and even though Yancy had been so sick of catering to Raleigh in the past, it now feels like a small comfort; that were Raleigh alive, he would’ve been pleased. The feeling makes bile rise in the back of his throat on pure reflexes.

But if he gets in faithful old Gipsy, and fails the neural handshake – fails _all_ the neural handshakes prepared for him – it would be a slap in the face; _you can try all you want, but you’re broken, Becket. You can’t avenge your brother; **you** **aren’t good enough and never will be.**_

So, Yancy opens his mouth, a _no_ , _marshal_ poised on his tongue.

But then there’s a memory, a paper thin memory – transparent but heavy in its place in Yancy's mind. It’s the beginning, when he and Raleigh were technically still rookies; Raleigh was only 19, then. They were prepping to head out on what would be their first Kaiju drop ever – Yamarashi in the city of Los Angeles.

Raleigh had been so cocky right before the Drift – Yancy could sense it in the sway of Raleigh’s walk, and the smirk he wore on his face. But there was also something else there, something Yancy couldn’t put a finger on, but tried to address anyways.

“Hey kid, watch your big head.” Yancy had said, and Raleigh looked at him in surprise, as if he hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about. “Let it get any bigger and that Kaiju’s going to have a new target.”

“Confidence is nothing to be jealous of, Yance.” Raleigh sniggered, but it sounded like a terrible farce, and Yancy wasn’t sure if Raleigh was worried about returning from this fight alive too, just like he was.

“I’m just saying, kid. It can get nasty out there, we need to be on guard –“

“We’re going out there to beat the shit out a Kaiju, and you’re telling me to be on guard? Way to ruin the mood, mum.” Raleigh said, and smiled despite the grim joke. Yancy made a mental note to wrestle Raleigh till he cried mercy later when they got back, but shot a half-hearted smile back at his excited brother. Raleigh caught it; caught the way Yancy’s smile faded a little too quickly, how his eyes go to the floor after it met his sibling’s.

“Yancy, look at me.” Raleigh said, and Yancy wasn’t sure if he was okay with Raleigh saying something like that to him with that _tone_ , what with him being the immature _little_ brother, but he looked at Raleigh anyway. Raleigh, for a change, looked dead serious, which is probably why the next part is so clear, and why it makes Yancy turn around and face Pentecost now, who smiles a little.

“If we are going to die, where would you rather die?” Raleigh had asked genuinely, and gestured to Gipsy’s opaque displays, which were a soft and bright blue, as it always was; patient, waiting.

“Out there, or here, in a Jaeger?”

Raleigh waited quietly. Yancy licked his lips and rolled his eyes as someone on the speakers says _Entering Drift in_ –  

“Fine. Let’s kill some Kaiju.” Yancy grinned, and Raleigh grinned back as LOCCENT’s already counting down.

_Three, two one_

_– Initiating neural handshake._

***

“I have studied your fighting techniques, and handpicked the candidates for the trials myself.” The small Japanese girl says. What was her name again – Mako Mori, wasn’t it?

“Really? What do you think?” Yancy asks, taking off his coat. The girl’s face closes off for a second before she looks him in the eyes.

“I think you’re good in a lot of aspects; I can see why the Marshal picked you for this drop. You know the risks, you know what advantages you have and you’re very aware of any weaknesses that you need to protect, and you act when you know your brother is too slow to act. Your brother– ” And at this she stops dead, as if unsure whether or not mentioning a dead person is morally incorrect given the history and the context in which she is speaking. Yancy gestures for her to continue, though, and she purses her lips.

“He was unpredictable, and didn’t think before he acted, taking risks that could’ve injured himself and the rest of the crew.”

Yancy nods; it’s not news to him. He’s saved the kid’s ass more times than they can remember, because Raleigh wasn’t looking, or wasn’t thinking, or _sorry Yance!_ – and they both knew it. There’s more debris in the ocean from Gipsy’s defensive wounds than there are fish, the amount of times Yancy’s had to block an attack at the last second before Raleigh sends the finishing strike. Yancy grimaces as he realizes that Raleigh's death is proof of that.

Yancy shuffles over to his bag and begins to unpack, sparing a look over his shoulder at Mako.

“Sure, but what does this have to do with me?” He pulls out some clothes and then a small bundle of photographs that used to belong to Raleigh.

“You’re a protective pilot – it’s how you learned to fight. You have to look after your brother, because your brother takes it on himself to look after the Kaiju. You don’t have the sense of aggression he had, because you’re mostly on the defensive. Your brother’s gotten too good at the offensive – you only fight when you have to. You let your brother handle the reckless acts, because you know he’ll do it, and all you have to do is clean up the mess and hold everything together. To be honest, I don’t think you’re the man for this mission.” She says, and her lips press into a tight line as she nods minutely. Yancy looks at her, and the silence stretches uncomfortably between them. Then he nods in return as he looks away.

“I’ve got to admit, that’s rough to swallow.” He replies, looking back down and untying the photographs. He hasn’t looked at them yet; not properly. His memory is a little glazed over when he thinks about packing up their room after he was released from the medical bays. How he doesn’t remember what he did with Raleigh’s favourite blue ratty sweater or the rest of his clothes, but he somehow still has his brother’s dog tags around his neck, under his own light brown even-rattier sweater. How he can’t remember what Raleigh’s face looked like as he looked to Yancy for the last time, but can vividly see how excited Raleigh had been before deployment in the one memory he seemed to retain. How even though he aches all over, even now, it still feels like there is a hole inside him, and he’s slowly bleeding out in trickles of red and black and blue, and that’s where the pain is the most intense. How he remembers deciding to throw away all the paperwork regarding Jaegers and Kaijus except for his resignation documents, because his eyes turn red at the sight, but somehow he still has the photos his brother insisted on keeping when they first moved in tied up neat and stacked in his luggage.

The first one is of Gipsy Danger the first time they’d seen her, standing in the hanger, the shiny and new Jaeger filling their hearts with hopes and dreams. His heart clenches so he flips it to tuck under the stack, replacing it on the bottom. The next one is of when he and Raleigh were in Budapest, as children. It had been his eleventh birthday – mum was still alive then, seven years before the first Kaiju attack. He flips it.

“What’s your score out in the simulator?” Yancy asks, changing the subject and looking up from the photographs. Mako blushes and tries to contain a smile. She clutches her clipboard tighter.

“Fifty-one drops, fifty-one kills.”

Yancy’s eyebrow lifts as he smiles too – “Not bad. You’re not a candidate for tomorrow, though?”

The smile disappears.

“I’m not, the Marshal has his reasons.” She says. _I’m sure he does_ , Yancy wants to reply – Pentecost’s been there every time a Jaeger fell and their pilots killed, and ironically, that kind of loss doesn’t desensitise you to the situation. But fifty-one drops with fifty-one kills is enough incentive to get the girl into a Jaeger, and even more than enough to get her to try her compatibility at the trials tomorrow.

“Do you want to be a Ranger?”

Mako nods hard and the smile is back, but this time it’s wider and more evident. “More than anything.”

Her excitement and enthusiasm brings Yancy back to when he and Raleigh first started, when Raleigh still had a kind of puppy love with the idea of being a Ranger, and he’s all of a sudden reminded of that scientist’s comments in the elevator. _2500 tons of awesome,_ he had said, and Yancy suddenly feels like too many people have taken this war for granted; taken the pilots’ jobs to be a simple thing of combat and their lives as one of the ultimate dream-fulfilment and invincibility. It’s not Mako’s fault, but her eagerness makes Yancy think about all the children who don’t understand just how terrible the Kaiju War really is and see Jaeger pilots as the easy heroes you hear in stories; ones who never seem to die.

“You know, fighting a Kaiju isn’t as easy as the simulator makes it out to be.” Yancy says, and the rest comes out without his permission. “The truth is, I couldn’t ever stop my brother from doing what he does, and piloting is a team job – compromises have to be made and you can’t plan every single move, and it’s our jobs to keep as many people alive as we can until we can drop that Kaiju.” Yancy glances back down to the photographs again – Raleigh and dad in Munich. He flips it.

“I know, but–“ Mako begins to say, but Yancy cuts her off, because he needs to get this out, having held onto it and repressed it for too long with no one who cared enough to understand.

“I don’t have a sense of aggression because the emotions are too high risk.” – _Raleigh’s proof of that –_ “You get in that Jaeger to do a job, not to exact revenge or to play a game.” – _not to prove that you can still do your brother’s wishes good_ – “People’s lives are at risk, and it all weighs down on you.” – _except it doesn’t because there’s someone else sharing the load_ – “Next time you get into a simulator, think about that burden on your shoulders, and then come and tell me how aggressive you were in that battle.” – _and how much of your family you lost_ – “Come and tell me how many Kaijus you can drop then.” It feels more like a punishment than the expected relief to finally get it all out, and he belatedly realizes how Mako’s clenching her jaw, and her eyebrows are tilted in a slight frown.

“I did not mean disrespect, Mr Becket.” She says, and her voice wavers slightly, but not with weakness. Her self-restraint is evident in the gaze she locks upon Yancy, and Yancy sighs, scrubbing a calloused palm over his face.

“I’m sorry, that was …” He begins to say, and Mako gazes down at the floor, rejecting the rest of his sentence. For a second Yancy thinks she’s going to turn around and walk away, but she doesn’t. She slides the clipboard down so it rests against her hip, and she looks back up at him, eyes steely and defiant. She wants him to go on.

“I’m sorry Mako, I just meant … when you’re out in combat, and you’re piloting, every life counts –” Yancy says, and suddenly the next photo in his hand is the one of him and Raleigh, arms slung around each other, shit-eating grins on their faces and bomber jackets on their shoulders. It was taken a few days before the Anchorage drop, before Knifehead ripped Raleigh from the hull. He gazes at it for a second and then quickly flips it away, taking a breath before he finishes the sentence and looks up at her. “–and sometimes you won’t like the decision you’ll have to make.”

***

“Mako, it’s okay, you’re alright now.” Yancy says, cradling the trembling girl in his arms. Mako’s shivering, eyes wide and unfocused, still staring straight ahead. The plasma cannon whirrs to a stop, and silence settles around them. If Yancy had known, if only he had _known_ , he wouldn’t have pushed so hard for Mako to try a Drift with him.

“Gomenesai.” Mako apologises quietly, her voice a soft squeak in the silent interior of the brand new Gipsy Danger – same colours, same materials, different pilots. Yancy stammers for the first few syllables – he was expecting fear; a panic attack; something with more force than the tranquil base of Mako’s usual demeanour. Loud and rough he can handle – loud is him having yelling matches with his brother as children over who’s in the wrong; rough is him and his brother scrubbing each other into the dirt when they wrestle; it’s Raleigh slamming the door in his face and Yancy having to climb through the window to teach his little brother a lesson.

The world only quietened down after Anchorage. After he quit.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault – you’re okay, Mako.” Yancy breaths against her hair, and her body slowly relaxes against him, the transition nothing more than the gentle slide of her chin tilting down to half rest on her chest, and half against his arm. Both of them say nothing, and they lie there, Yancy holding Mako against him, breathing in the silence.

“I saw it.” She says suddenly, and Yancy’s heart drops as his consciousness brings back to surface the one thing he never wanted anyone to see – him standing at the top of the wall with his feet far too close to the edge for it to be safe. The moments when he felt like giving up, because what was the point? And no one would mourn him, no one would remember. What did he have to go back to? Shabby quarters and the cold, maybe. The Drift communicates emotions, too. Did Mako feel what he felt?

“What did you see?” He asks quietly after a bit, wondering whether or not he really wanted to hear the answer.

“Your brother.” Mako murmurs.

 _Oh_.

“Oh.”

“Gomenesai.” Mako apologises again, and Yancy quickly shakes his head.

“It’s okay.” He says, and then he hears himself and how pathetic he sounds. How it sounds like Raleigh’s death is something to be ashamed of, which it will never be. Yancy’s never admitted it out loud because that’s not something they do, but he’s proud of Raleigh, always has been.

“It’s not exactly a secret, anyway.” He adds.

“You did the right thing.” Mako says, and the first thought inside Yancy was _no_. Because he didn’t – he didn’t do anything right. He couldn’t protect Raleigh, he couldn’t protect Gipsy; he was informed that the boat disappeared off radar when they and Knifehead did, and they didn’t find any bodies or wreckage indicating that it had survived. In his former life as a Jaeger pilot he was praised and looked up to – his current life had him in a position where no one ever puts his name and _good_ in the same sentence – he’s thrown into the role of _failure_ and _has-been_ again and again, and hearing Mako tell him he did well made guilt and denial well up inside him so hard it hurt him.

“What do you mean?” Yancy asks, and his voice is quiet as he says– “What did you see?”

He’s blocked the memory away for so long now, he can barely remember the details – the temperature of the wind, Knifehead’s roar, the look on Raleigh’s face as he said his last words;

_Yancy what do I-_

He hasn’t thought about it since it happened.

No, that was a lie, because for the first two years on the wall it was the only thing he could think about, day in, day out – a scene replayed in his head every time he closed his eyes; how it was his fault, how Raleigh’s last words were basically _Yancy help me what do I do_ , and Yancy had always been there for Raleigh growing up, so why wasn’t he then? It hadn’t frequented his consciousness quite as often since then, but every time it did – made Yancy scream Raleigh’s name as he woke up covered in sweat, made him jump every time someone on the wall yelled his name with the same desperation – it felt like daggers in his heart.

And then he latches onto it in the Drift. He chases the fucking R.A.B.I.T. – chases it so hard he could feel the paralysing fear Raleigh was feeling threading through him and entangling him in the Drift, and he can’t get to Raleigh quick enough, and the pain from the drivesuit burns his arm and he can hardly move with the electric mainframe going haywire with the damage; but he had reached out, managed to say _Raleigh, listen to me_ – before the past continued on without him and Raleigh was pulled screaming from the Conn-Pod. He gets snapped out of it in time by Tendo before he fell out of the Drift altogether, only fall into Mako’s R.A.B.I.T. in turn.

“It wasn’t what I saw.” Mako says, bringing Yancy back to the present and away from his thoughts.

“But you said I did the right thing.” Yancy frowns slightly, looking at her from the strange angle of her head resting against his breastplate. Honestly, if Mako isn’t talking about that, then Yancy isn’t sure he can bring himself to accept it. His life rolls out in chapters, and that chapter is the one single tarnished collection of pages in which he can never forgive himself.  

“Coming back. Piloting. You did the right thing.” Mako says.

Oh.

“ _Oh_.”

***

“One of you has got to keep the little bitch on a leash.” Despite Mako’s interpretation of Yancy’s fighting attitude, his fist’s sailed into the kid’s face before he knows what’s happening and then again, and that’s when kid catches on and fights back. Yancy manages to get him to the ground, and Chuck spits blood.

“Apologise to the lady.” Yancy says calmly, too calmly for someone who’s just busted another Ranger’s nose. He’s seen what Mako’s had to deal with; lived through Onibaba’s attack with her in the Drift, and this son of a bitch does not get around calling her that. Chuck glares at him, and he scowls as he wipes the corner of his mouth –“Screw you.”

Yancy doesn’t want to fight him – if Raleigh was alive he would’ve been the one to pursue the fight and _force_ the kid to apologise. But Yancy didn’t want to, because making enemies isn’t his priority right now – he’s here because Pentecost knows he has important experience as a Jaeger pilot, not because fate demands it. But it’s like all of Yancy’s years as an elder sibling comes rushing back to him, because suddenly all Yancy can think about is how this punk ass kid needs to be put in line, and maybe he’ll finally give the kid the boot up the arse that Herc’s been so doubtful of dishing out.

As Chuck comes at him in his hot-headed lunge Yancy easily manoeuvres around him and catches his arm in a move he doesn’t recognise as his own, changing positions to throw Chuck to the floor. He pins him down, and Chuck’s growling against the ground with a noise that sounds like his bulldog. Yancy’s never learnt to use a move like that before, and he realizes later that he’s fighting like Mako would. The Drift had worked, after all.

“I _said_ ,” Yancy emphasises the word by pulling on the Aussie’s arm, which was twisted behind his back, earning a pained snarl. “ _Apologise._ ”

“What’s going on here?” He hears, and Yancy immediately releases Chuck. The younger ranger rolls back onto his feet, hand to his shoulder and face flushed with anger.

“Becket, Mori – in my office, now.” Pentecost says and he sounds as tired as Yancy feels. But Yancy doesn’t move because Chuck moves towards him again with threats of _I’m not finished_ and Herc comes and places himself between Chuck and a very ready and capable Yancy; a solid wall of fatherhood protecting his son from making more bad decisions and getting kicked out of the Jaeger program.

“No, this is over!” He says firmly, pressing his son back, and Chuck glares at his father. Yancy marvels at how that much hatred could still be directed at another human being at this point in the war, but then Chuck’s gone, storming down the corridor. Herc lingers, watching until his son turns the corner, and then turns to Yancy, who is still standing there, watching the boy walk away from his father.

“Sorry about him,” Herc says, and god, Yancy is so wrong – because the weariness in Pentecost’s voice is nothing compared to the pain in Herc’s.

***

“Gipsy’s analogue, she’s nuclear; she can fight.” Yancy states and the harsh, brilliant truth earns him a blood-drawing glare from Pentecost. “Let us go.”

The silent _no_ radiates from Pentecost like a tidal wave raring to swallow them all, but Yancy isn’t going to give up. He grits his teeth and presses his lips together, standing his ground.

“Come on, we’re the only ones left!” He exclaims, exasperated as to what possible reason Pentecost can bring up now. They’re enveloped in darkness and they have one Jaeger standing between two Kaijus and Hong Kong with a population of tens of thousands. Pentecost turns so his entire body is facing him, and his expression reminds Yancy of why he and Raleigh were such well behaved boys even as bratty prepubescents in the PPDC when they first begun. But then someone behind Yancy catches Pentecost’s eye, and Yancy sees the walls slip away for a second; sees something very brief and very strong behind it.

“Go.” He finally says, his voice much too soft for it to be a command, and when Yancy turns Mako’s already pushing through the crowd to get out and to her quarters. Yancy scrambles after her, hoping he can beat her to the bays.

 “This is it, Mako.” Yancy says as he wipes the pad of his thumb over the glass visor of the helmet before he puts it on. “This is for real.”

Mako looks at him and nods, and for a second something in Yancy recognises that look. It’s a committed and stubborn look of pure duty – a look that seemed to say that it didn’t matter if she came back alive – and he’s never shared that look with Raleigh; they were optimists. Overly-reassured, even. It was probably why they underestimated Knifehead so much _– it was probably why Raleigh died._ To them the war was detached from their lives. As long as they kept the fear out of their every day routines then it wasn’t scary, and the war outside their windows didn’t coalesce into the living world; couldn’t get to them. But that look, he’s seen it somewhere before –

It can’t be –

“Entering Drift in _ten, nine_ ,” Tendo interrupts Yancy’s almost-there-connection, and Yancy has no choice but to abandon the information at hand to empty his mind in the few precious seconds left to make sure he doesn’t bring debris into the Drift. This time the handshake will hold.

It has to.

***

“We’re out of options, Mako!” Yancy yells over the roar of the wind and the flap of Otachi’s wings. He looks at Mako helplessly – nothing can save them now; Gipsy Danger’s not equipped with anything else on the offence. The guilt stabs in his chest - it was trust in Pentecost’s eyes. It was faith and trust he saw when Pentecost told them to suit up and come out here; when he told Mako to suit up and fight.

It was respect – just like Mako had said.

“No, there’s still something left.” Mako shouts, and begins activating new buttons that Yancy doesn’t remember being in Gipsy when he was still a pilot. He realizes that Mako spoke in Japanese, and he internally translated it for himself – despite their travels, Raleigh was a lot more language-adept than he was, and he concludes it must be the Drift.

“What are you doing?” Yancy says, but something comes up on the display that makes Yancy’s heart drop in anticipation.

 _Sword deployment_.

Yancy feels the left arm of his drivesuit tighten under the new load of the detached weapon, adjusting him to the new fulcrum and weight. He doesn’t have the time to adapt to the idea of Gipsy brandishing the 100 ft sword though, because Otachi’s getting too high, and they needed to end this.

“For my family!” Mako yells and it’s inside Yancy’s head this time, because yes, _for Raleigh, and mum and dad_ , and together, Yancy and Mako pull the sword through the Kaiju’s middle, hearing it’s roar end abruptly as its talons release Gipsy’s back.

Then they’re falling.

Shit, they’re falling, and the temperature inside Gipsy goes quickly from Anchorage cold to Asteroid hot.

 _Altitude loss critical. Forty thousand feet_.

The sword retracts into Gipsy’s arm and Yancy splays himself out to try and slow down Gipsy’s descent. It doesn’t do much good, but they break through the clouds and Yancy sees that they’re not going to land anywhere near the ocean – they’re headed straight for the middle of the city.

“Gipsy, listen to me. Loosen all the shuttle doors, use the gyroscope to balance the fall out, it’s your only chance!” Pentecost is bellowing through the comm. Yancy looks to Mako, making sure she heard that too.

“Mako, we’ve got to jettison the boosters on the last second!” He yells to her, over the roaring of the wind again. She catches his eye, waiting. Yancy turns to face the rapidly approaching ground.

 _Twenty thousand feet_.

“Now!” He says, and they’re wrenched forwards as the nuclear booster slows Gipsy down dramatically, but then it’s gone and Gipsy’s falling again, gravity inviting almost 2,000 tons of metal and resistance to a permanent finish. 

“We’re coming too fast! Brace for it, Mako! Brace!” Yancy screams, bringing Gipsy around so when they crash into the ground it’s feet first. They’re thrown forwards in their harnesses, and pain is spectacular, but slightly subdued under the buzzing in his skull. Yancy shakes his head to clear it, and bad idea – his vision changes colour for a second. The letter _R_ comes out of his mouth before he catches and stops himself, but the second half of the sentiment slips out anyway –“Mako, _kid_.”

He can hear her breathing, it’s the speakers relayed between the pilot’s helmets, but she’s not responding. Yancy forces himself not to think about how maybe he’ll have to start a kill count for co-pilots, too.

“Mako, you alright?”

There’s a moment of silence, and he sees her helmet finally rise as she looks up.

“Yeah.” She breathes, and she turns to him. “You?” She grins, and for the first time in years, Yancy laughs for real.

***

“Today we are cancelling the Apocalypse!” Pentecost’s voice booms, although Yancy recognises the hollowness of it, how death is just skin deep for the man, especially now, when he’s dressed for his funeral and heading to his grave. The entire hanger erupts into applause and cheers, but when Yancy looks to Mako he sees she’s not smiling. She looks tired; exhausted – she’s the only one who looks like they’re in mourning. Yancy didn’t hear what Pentecost said to her, but the signs are pretty clear, and he can guess.

This drop is going to kill him.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Yancy asks later, as the harnesses are being lowered inside the cockpit.

“What about?” Mako asks, voice thin and quiet, and her eyes trace the shape of the control panel switches and wires on the floor. Yancy pauses as he gets into position so the pit crew can screw him into the harness. It’s silent as the crew work to get them ready.

“You know, all those days I spent looking at the past, I never really thought about the future. I didn’t want to forget him, I guess.” Yancy says after the pit crew’s left, saying it to no one in particular. But out of the corner of his eye he sees Mako’s helmet shift.

“You were afraid of forgetting Raleigh?” She asks, and the name feels like an elbow rocket to the gut.

“Yeah, Raleigh.” Yancy says, forcing the name out so it doesn’t sound like a shout or a scream or a heaving sob. He hasn’t mentioned his brother by name for a while – a long while, where the beginning of the end had him surrounded by white powder rush and an old man in a beanie with gloves telling him he was hurt.

“Why now?” Mako asks, and Yancy’s not even sure any more.

“I’ve always had terrible timing.” He finally says, and he hears Mako's quiet huff of a laugh. “My brother can’t be in my life forever, I should’ve accepted that the night they gave me his belongings in a duffle bag.” He pauses. “I guess I didn’t want to be alone.” He admits, and the statement feels like ripples in the quiet pool deep inside him. The one he’s trained to be still and unmoving no matter how hard the Kaijus knock at his door. His tongue feels heavy, so he stops speaking.

“You’re not alone.”Mako’s voice is smaller now, but it’s quiet in the hull save for the beep of machinery and their shared breathing, and Yancy smiles.

“Neither are you.” He reminds her, and looks over to where Mako’s looking back at him, and she smiles too, the corners of her lips quirked; even if it is a sad smile.

“You look good.” Yancy says, and Mako’s smile turns genuine.

***

“You can finish this! I’ll always be there for you. You can always find me in the Drift.” Pentecost’s voice rings loud and clear over Gipsy’s alarms. Yancy looks to Mako, who’s looking at the control panel, the visor of her helmet fogged and covered in water and he can’t make out her expression. He doesn’t think he wants to see it – he doesn’t want to see the hurt in her eyes, to see her cry again. She's cried too much; enough.

“Mako, we’re a walking nuclear reactor, we can end this. It’s up to us.” He says instead, and over the open comm., he hears Chuck saying something about taking a shot, and then –

 _It was a pleasure, sir_.

Mako finally turns and nods at Yancy, and the water’s washed off her visor, the fog having disappeared slightly. He can’t tell if she’s crying, or if the tears are just water paths on the glass. She has the same expression as the one from their first drop together and Yancy’s overworked brain finally makes the connection – that look, the good-die-young look of loyalty and duty and self-sacrifice – he’s seen the potential of it on Chuck’s face, too.

Because Mako and Chuck wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice themselves if it meant the rest of the world would be safe, because they were raised together under Kaiju war alarms and playing on spare Jaeger parts and ruins and chasing each other through alabaster Kaiju bone yards, teaching each other their native languages sitting on what vegetation still grew through the residue of Kaiju Blue, because they had no one else their age to play with.

It’s walking Max through the crowded streets of Sydney and dragging Pentecost through whatever stores were opened around the Shatterdome they’re at in the present time, and showing Herc the tarantulas Chuck catches in glass jars with holes in the lid so they’ll live longer than just two hours, and the moves Mako’s learnt today in the Kwoon under the guidance of a few hand-selected martial arts teachers, watching Stacker’s normally composed exterior break with pride.

It’s the constant bid for mortality, and learning to live with everything on hold because saving the world always came first; before family, and before themselves.

It’s possible that neither of them thought they would live to see their 21th birthdays.

Now comes the time for them to do what’s asked of them, and Mako understands what she must do, as does Chuck. Because Yancy heard Chuck’s voice, and even though none of the stuff he said before was a goodbye – _my father always said_ – Yancy could hear it in the way he said it. It’s how Yancy would’ve said his _don’t get cocky_ and _just worry about yourself, kiddo_ to Raleigh, if he knew how the next twenty eight minutes would’ve played out.

Yancy doesn’t begin to try to imagine what that burden must feel like to carry around every day, even as children. His mind instantly brings him back to his first day at the Shatterdome, and he heavily regrets the lecture he gave Mako on their first day together, when he impressed upon her that piloting was a responsibility, and she had gritted her teeth and taken it. Because Mako knew, of course she knew, at least in some form, that one day she’d be here, in a Jaeger, watching what’s left of her family do what must be done so she can finish this.

“Sensei, aishitemasu,” Mako says, and Yancy doesn’t try to translate it; doesn’t intrude on the private moment of separation. He concentrates on watching Striker, and the two Kaijus converging on the small silhouette, the size of the distant Jaeger bringing back memories of when these war machines were just toys, back when they were still supremely effective as resistance and Kaiju were just playthings you could throw in a closet and lock away. Yancy nods in a silent salute to Chuck, because even though he was a mouthy egotistical punk ass kid, he’s also a soldier, and a _good_ one at that, and he deserved respect for what he’s doing.

There’s the flash of blinding light accompanied by a small static blip in their comm., and Yancy and Mako bring Gipsy down to brace against the current. The force of the explosion pushes against Gipsy with brute power, but Mako throws her sword into the seabed and they hold on fast even with the heavily incapacitated Jaeger. The explosion gives way to silence, and Yancy hears quiet noises in his ear, from the internal comm. of Gispy Danger. Mako’s really crying now, and Yancy didn’t know if there was anything he could do, or something he should say. He only knew that they needed a Kaiju carcass, and that they needed to destroy the Breach.

Briefly, he wonders if someone’s crying for Chuck, too.

***

“I just have to fall, anyone can fall.” Yancy breathes, and it’s so easy now. Things are finally falling into place and Yancy knows what he has to do. He would’ve laughed at how these words would’ve meant something totally different were he still at the top of the Wall of Life – except he couldn’t gather enough air to laugh.

_I just have to fall._

He places a hand on Mako’s helmet like he would’ve to Raleigh, with a _stay safe, kiddo_ on his lips as he activates the emergency evacuation pod. Mako will survive this, she has to.

The oxygen’s thinning in Yancy’s drivesuit and Yancy feels the light-headedness that comes before the nausea and hyperventilation and loss of consciousness – not much time left, then. He forces his eyes open and breathes a little more shallowly, makes himself watch to make sure Mako gets into the escape pod safely.

“Yancy, your oxygen levels are critical, you don’t have much time. Start core meltdown and get out of there. Do you hear me? _Get out of there now!”_ Tendo’s yelling, but Yancy waits. He waits till Mako’s pod is launched from Gipsy to even touch the control panels, because he wants to make sure Mako’s out of harm’s way. He owes that much to Stacker, at least.

The controls beep angry red at him as he tries to activate the nuclear meltdown.

 _Manuel activation required_.

“LOCCENT, the trigger’s offline; I’ll have to do this manually.” Yancy says as he disengages from the magnetic harness, and he gets around the uncovered cogs carefully, his vision swimming a little. His memory snaps back to that first day when they walked into Gipsy and Raleigh’s too busy looking around the Jaeger’s interior that his foot misses the floor and into the empty space where the cogs and gears would’ve ground when Gipsy moved. Yancy had grabbed him in time, and it had turned into a joke every time they came in – _Raleigh always forgets that the cogs were there, one day he was going to fall and break his neck_. _Ha ha ha_.

But Yancy gets to the activator panel in the floor safely and he looks at the handle. This is it – he’s finally going to end all this, and his tired old Jaeger would be laid to rest at last.

“Thanks, old girl.” Yancy says breathlessly as he turns the lever and pushes it in. The clock counts down as he awkwardly gets back into the feedback cradle, fumbling with where he’s supposed to step on the magnetic lock platform and what’s supposed to go where to plug in so things worked, because his brain’s a little slower on the oxygen intake, and the condition’s only getting worse.

“Core meltdown T minus sixty.” Yancy says through the comm., even though half a minute has passed already, and breathing is hard work now, a labour to get enough oxygen in each breath to keep him standing.

_Reactor meltdown twenty seconds._

It takes him a few seconds to press the right buttons to activate the escape pod because he couldn’t see clearly through the gushing water and the fog and the double vision, and the air is stifling now.

_Ten._

In fact, his fingers linger because it crosses his mind that he and the old girl can finally end this together.

_Nine._

What does he have to go back to? Some clothes, a stack of photographs he can’t even bear to look at, and a paddock of gravestones? 

_Eight._

Everything he’s been hiding from, everything he was so afraid of, it would all end if he just stops right now, and wait for time to run out.

_Seven._

But he keeps breathing, keeps pressing, because with each heartbeat that he hears inside his ears it echoes _Mako, Mako, Mako,_ and it’s right – he can’t just leave her alone, not again.

_Six._

Then the lights buzz red.

_Five._

The recognition comes in a little over a second, but Yancy understands. Of course.

_Four._

The exterior of Gipsy must be damaged where his escape chute is, and he nearly laughs at the thought of how this is the one act of God he just can’t beat.

_Three._

Yancy’s hand drops back to his side as he smiles inside his helmet. He’s not regretful, or bitter. In fact, he feels a peace embrace and wash over him like a summer breeze in their old backyard.

_Two._

_Sorry Mako, sorry kid_ , is his last thought as his vision gives out.

 _One_.

Everything gives out, actually.

_Reactor meltdown._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the first escape pod breaks the surface of the ocean, its occupant makes haste to escape it. Mako cracks open the pod with grim determination and when the fresh air seeps in she feels something she hasn’t felt in a long time. She gets to her knees and then her feet in the wobbling raft, and tries to swallow the lump rising in her throat.

She’s afraid – she’s alone.

“Yancy!” She screams, but no pod follows her yell. She waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And she waits some more. Then the jets pass over her and she stops waiting.

She cries.

***

_It’s summer, and even though you’ve never known better, the summer’s not hot enough for your liking in Anchorage. Not in Alaska._

_It’s autumn, and you fall out of a tree and break your arm. Raleigh demands to know who had hurt you so he can avenge you. He is 6._

_It’s spring, and Budapest smells like pine, and you are 11 today. Raleigh laughs and you two pretend to be superheroes with mum’s lighter._

_It’s winter, and Hong Kong’s rebuilding. One girl packs up two separate ranger’s quarters amidst the bustling of the rest of the building disbanding, putting their things in separate bags. She takes the bags with her as she leaves the Shatterdome for the last time._

_She doesn’t look back._

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you'd like, I love reading reviews! :)


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